


Something I Need

by A_Study_In_Johnlock



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Crying, Friends to Lovers, John Is So Done, M/M, Making Love, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good, Sherlock is a Brat, Top John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 17:41:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11362395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Study_In_Johnlock/pseuds/A_Study_In_Johnlock
Summary: Sherlock takes his brattiness too far and John reacts





	Something I Need

John gritted his teeth for what he felt like was the hundredth time that day. Continuously, he checked his phone for the time and he was  _ absolutely  _ sure that time was dragging on to the point of impossibility. For the past few days, he had been forced to deal with a no case working Sherlock Holmes, which–in turn–meant that he was experiencing what hell truly felt like.

Oh, he tried to leave. Of course he did. And the moment he stepped past the threshold to feel that familiar London chill, John somehow managed to receive nine texts from Sherlock that looked something along the lines of:

 

_ Where are you going? _

-S.H.

 

_ No.  _

-S.H.

 

_ If I have to stay here and listen to Mrs. Hudson’s hoovering, so do you. _

-S.H.

 

_ Why haven’t you come back upstairs yet? _

-S.H.

 

_ The door is open, I know you’re still here. _

-S.H.

 

_ Don’t close the door to insinuate your leaving, John. I KNOW you’re still downstairs. _

-S.H.

 

_ John.  _

-S.H.

 

_ John. _

-S.H.

 

_ If you don’t come back upstairs, I will burn all of your jumpers, starting with that hideous oatmeal coloured one.  _

-S.H.

 

John took a deep breath, sitting in his chair, as he listened to Sherlock pacing in the kitchen behind him, muttering something about coagulation in arthropods, as if just spewing random information. 

“John.” Sherlock’s baritone voice suddenly called from the kitchen. 

John didn’t answer and, instead, decided to stare straight at the wall in front of him, his arms crossed over his chest. He knew he was being just as childish as Sherlock, but he couldn’t be arsed to care. He’d been holed up in the flat for  _ three  _ days. Or was it four? John blanched at the possibility of this lasting more than a week and slowly felt his sanity drain.

“ _ Joohn, _ ” Sherlock drawled and John swore he felt his eye twitch. “Are we trying the ignoring tactic now?”

John opened his mouth to say something nasty, but Mrs. Hudson saved him in that moment with her swift two knocks, probably bringing them tea and biscuits in her form of checking on them to make sure they hadn’t killed each other yet. “Boys?”

“Ah, Mrs. Hudson!” Sherlock called, stepping into the sitting room. “I think John’s hearing has gone.”

“John?” Mrs. Hudson turned to look at him and John glanced over at her in exasperation, his eyes pleading for help. She knew the look all too well and smiled. “He seems just fine to me, Sherlock.”

“Yes,” Sherlock muttered. “Well, perhaps it’s me.”

“ _ Perhaps _ ,” John added bitterly.

Mrs. Hudson rounded Sherlock and set the tray down on the kitchen table before making her way back into the sitting room. “No fighting, boys. The walls can only take so much.” And with that, she went back downstairs. John went to call her back so that he wouldn’t be forced to say something to Sherlock he didn’t want to, but Sherlock rounded John’s chair and sat across from him, his left eyebrow arched.

“ _ What _ .” John practically gritted.

“You’re upset with me,” Sherlock’s hands steepled under his chin. John usually found it endearing, now he wanted to smack Sherlock’s hands away.

“Really? What gave you that idea?”

“Well, all of the signs are really obvious, John,” Sherlock sighed as if bored. “We haven’t been on a case in four days.”

_ So, it had been four.  _

“No,  _ you’ve _ kept me in the flat for  _ four  _ days.”

“You’re more than free to leave, John.” Sherlock said with a glint in his eyes.

John stared at him. “You threatened to  _ burn  _ my jumpers.”

“They’re quite flammable...they’d make a nice fire.” Sherlock said in a considerate tone.

“Are you losing your mind? Finally?” 

“ _ Perhaps _ ,” Sherlock muttered, and rose to his feet. With a flair of his dressing gown, Sherlock walked back into the kitchen. 

For a second, it was quiet. Logically, John should have been worried, but all he could feel was relief as he felt like he could finally breathe.

Until a large, resounding crack made him jump out of his chair. 

_ Gunshot. _

“What the  _ hell  _ is wrong with you?!” John yelled, turning to look where Sherlock was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, John’s gun resting lazily in the man’s right hand.

“ _ Perhaps,  _ I’m finally losing my mind.” Sherlock said bitterly.

“Give it to me.” John held out his hand. Sherlock didn’t move. “I’m not playing, Sherlock. Give me the gun.”

“Or what?” Sherlock asked darkly.

It happened in a flash, much too quickly, as John snatched Sherlock by his dressing gown, forcing his back to slam against the wall behind him. 

Sherlock released a shock breath upon the force, the gun falling–forgotten–to the floor, and gazed at John through dilated pupils, his lips parted, releasing short pants. In that moment, John realised exactly what it was Sherlock needed and released a breath of shock before pulling Sherlock down so their lips could meet.

Something dark twisted within Sherlock as John pinned him to the wall–hips against hips, torso against torso, lips against lips. A pulse of arousal swirled around in Sherlock’s gut as John’s tongue ran along his bottom lip, not exactly asking for permission. Sherlock parted his lips, letting John’s tongue swirl around his, establishing his dominance. All Sherlock could do was release pitiful whimpers as sweet, patient John took what he needed from him.

Abruptly, John pulled Sherlock’s dressing gown off of his shoulders, pulling it down until it fell to the floor. Then, his hands were ripping Sherlock’s button up apart, buttons skittering everywhere. Sherlock shivered at the sudden chill, his nipples hardening immediately. John forced the rest of Sherlock’s shirt down his arms where it joined the dressing gown on the floor. Sherlock quickly stepped out of his shoes as John began to unbuckle his belt with a force that caused Sherlock’s hips to buck towards John.

John undid the zip and pushed Sherlock’s trousers down, then cupped Sherlock’s pants covered cock, pleased to find Sherlock already hard and leaking. 

“John pl–” Sherlock began to plead, but John interjected.

“Shut up. If you love running your mouth so much, perhaps you should put it to good use.  _ Knees. _ ”

With a breathy gasp and widened eyes, Sherlock fell to his knees, ignoring the hard wood floor underneath him. His hands fumbled with John’s belt and his zip, his brain running one hundred miles a minute at the aspect of John  _ finally  _ taking him. When Sherlock released John from his trousers, his breath stopping short as he took in the  _ length  _ and  _ thickness  _ of John’s cock. 

“ _ Oh, _ ” was the only thing Sherlock could muster, a feeling of delight shooting up Sherlock’s spine that was heavily akin to the feeling of cocaine. Through heavy lidded eyes, he gazed up at John, knowing this man would absolutely be the death of him.

Sherlock leaned forward and laved his tongue up the length of John’s cock, swirling his tongue around the glans. Every now and again, Sherlock would teasingly brush his lips against John’s frenulum, reveling in the sounds he made. John hips bucked as Sherlock began to take him into his mouth, inch by inch, and  _ sucked,  _ hollowing out his cheeks as he pulled off. John’s head flew back as warmth spread through his groin. Sherlock took him in again and began bobbing his head, his tongue swirling at the tip of John’s cock. John jumped as Sherlock suddenly gripped his backside and  _ pushed. _ John found himself unable to look away from those captivating verdigris eyes that held nothing but a wicked and knowing look. John felt a shock run up his spine. Sherlock wanted John to  _ fuck his mouth. _

All John could think was  _ Oh, God, this is actually happening.  _ For a long moment, John tried to consider what had come over him until Sherlock sucked harder and elicited a long groan from John. In that moment, he decided, this was something they both needed. 

“Hands behind your back.” John muttered and Sherlock quickly followed suit, looking up at John expectantly. John’s hands ran through Sherlock’s curls and gripped gently, eliciting a whimper from Sherlock. “Good lad.” John pulled out and then gave an experimental push, gasping as Sherlock’s throat opened to take him in, fascinated as he watched Sherlock’s throat shape around his cock. “Oh,  _ fuck, _ ” John groaned, pushing back in to see it again. “Do you have a gag reflex?”

Sherlock hummed ‘no’ around John, causing the man’s hips to buck. 

“Of course you fucking don’t,” John released a shaky breath, experimentally seeing how far he could push until Sherlock’s nose was pressed against his pubic hair. “ _ Oh... _ ” he took a deep breath to calm himself and began to speed up his thrusts. Sherlock took him down beautifully, the detective’s moans sending vibrations through John’s body. All too soon, John felt heat flooding through him, his orgasm close. He pulled Sherlock back with an audible  _ pop.  _

“ _ Enough. _ ” John ordered roughly. “Bedroom. Now.”

Sherlock rushed onto his feet and hurried down the hall towards his bedroom. John tucked himself back inside his trousers and followed Sherlock into his room.

Sherlock laid on the middle of his bed, waiting for John. He heard those familiar footsteps and his body thrummed in anticipation. When Sherlock’s eyes met John’s, all of the air left him. John closed the door, his eyes zoned in and focused on Sherlock’s body.

“On your hands and knees.” John ordered.

Sherlock turned quickly, his arse in the air. John held back a groan at how absolutely  _ divine  _ Sherlock looked. 

“Lube?”

“Bedside drawer.” Sherlock murmured.

John rounded Sherlock’s bed and Sherlock heard him sifting around the drawer before he tossed the full tube onto the bed next to him. 

“Open yourself up.” John murmured.

Sherlock almost turned to look at John in shock, but something told him he knew better. Instead, he nodded. He opened the cap and spread the lube, liberally, over three fingers. With familiar precision, Sherlock circled his rim with his index finger and slowly pushed in, up to the first knuckle. He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and pushed his finger in further until it was buried inside of him. Slowly, Sherlock gave an experimental push, gasping at the pleasure that shot through him.

“You’ve never done this before.” John realised.

“No,” Sherlock gasped, adding his second finger. The stretch slightly burned, but the lube helped to dissolve it into pleasure. Again, he pushed in as far as the first knuckle and sank himself down the rest of the way.

John watched from the foot of the bed, enraptured at the curve of Sherlock’s arse, his cock twitching every time Sherlock’s fingers disappeared inside of himself. He noted that, while Sherlock was a virgin, he was taking his own fingers well. But his fingers were also long, unlike John’s which were thicker.

“Stop.” John ordered and with a full body shudder, Sherlock removed his fingers with an audible, slick sound from the lube.

John grabbed the bottle and spread the lube onto his own fingers. 

“Hold yourself open for me,” John murmured. Sherlock’s hands reached back to pull himself open. John released an audible groan and slowly pushed his index finger in. Sherlock’s body jolted and John held him steady.

“Alright?”

“Different,” Sherlock breathed. 

John attempted a second finger, getting a little resistance before Sherlock visibly relaxed enough for John to thrust two fingers into Sherlock. John scissored his fingers, opening Sherlock for what was to come. All too soon, John was on the third finger, thrusting them in deeply. Sherlock pushed back against them, whimpering every time John purposely brushed his prostate.

John removed his fingers and finally undressed himself. He coated his cock in lube and climbed onto the bed behind Sherlock, pushing the man’s head down onto the pillows behind him, leaving his arse in the air.

“ _ God, _ ” Sherlock panted heavily. “John,  _ please. _ ”

“You’ll wait until I’m good and ready, Sherlock,” John almost gritted. He gripped Sherlock’s wrists and held them behind the man’s back as he lined himself up with Sherlock and pushed in inch by inch until he was buried deep inside of the detective.

Sherlock’s body shook at the intrusion. He let out full body shudders at being so filled and  _ handled _ , his brain transfixed as John held him down against the mattress before he began to pound into Sherlock, taking what was his. Sherlock wailed, pressing his face into the pillow underneath him. Sparks of pleasure rushed up his spine with every push of John’s cock inside of him, driving Sherlock further towards the edge. Abruptly, John gripped Sherlock’s curls and turned his head from the pillow.

“Don’t hide now, Sherlock. Let me hear you.” John slammed harder into Sherlock, their moans intermingling, the sound of John’s hips colliding against Sherlock’s arse resounding off of the walls. “Tell me how it feels, Sherlock.”

“Oh,  _ fuck, _ ” Sherlock whimpered, feeling his cock leak onto the mattress below. “It... _ ungh... _ feels...better than being... _ oh... _ high.”

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it, you goddamn brat?” John slammed against Sherlock’s prostate.

“ _ Yessss _ ,” Sherlock hissed, his hands clutching the sheets. 

“You’ve been begging me to fuck you, haven’t you?” His pace quickened.

“ _ Yes,  _ John! God, yes!” 

“You sodding madman,” John groaned, using his hold on Sherlock’s arms to fuck him harder. 

Sherlock’s body jolted. “John, don’t stop!” Sherlock’s bollocks were tightening up towards his body, his cock was leaking extenstive amounts of precome, and his prostate was being pounded against. 

“ _ God, _ ” John groaned. “I love you.”

That was Sherlock’s undoing. It didn’t take Sherlock very long before his orgasm slammed down on him, a cry ripping from his throat, taking the air from his lungs, as he felt like his entire body was giving into impossibly immense pleasure. His body jerked with each spurt of his cock, moaning as John continued to fuck him, his thrusts slowing, letting their bodies deflate down onto the mattress.

 

John’s hips finally stopped, letting Sherlock ride his orgasm out. Until he heard an unfamiliar sniffle. John turned Sherlock’s head and his eyes widened as he realised the man below him was crying.

“Oh, God,” a wave of sickness hit John as he quickly turned Sherlock over. “Did I hurt you?”

Sherlock shook his head, reaching out for John. John quickly fell into his embrace, Sherlock’s legs placed on either side of his hips.

“Thank you,” Sherlock’s deep, baritone voice spoke softly. “It was exactly what I needed.  _ Everything  _ I needed.”

“But I was so rough–” John began, but Sherlock quickly cut him off.

“And it was mind boggling. Really, it was,” Sherlock smirked up at him with a fond look in his eye. “I didn’t think you had it in you,” he said, sounding proud. John snorted and Sherlock smiled. Then, Sherlock looked at him with a thought in mind. “John?”

“Yes?”

“Can I make one last selfish request?”

“Maybe,” John murmured.

“Make love to me.”

John frowned. “But you just–”

“You didn’t finish.” Sherlock pointed out.

“Your prostate would be way too overs–” 

Sherlock cut in again. “I’m okay, John. Trust me.” He pulled his legs up on either side of John’s hips so his feet were planted on the bed. “Please.”

John took a deep breath, trying to figure out if there was a way he could deny him. John realised that, no matter what, it was impossible. With a small nod, John took his still hard cock into his hand, and pressed against Sherlock’s rim where he was still gaping. John pushed forward, slowly, burying himself back within Sherlock’s walls. Sherlock’s body arched up against his.

John pressed his forehead against Sherlock’s in wonder. “I haven’t even kissed you.”

Sherlock cupped his face and brought their lips together in the sweetest kiss John had ever had. Their lips molded together perfectly and John found that Sherlock’s cupid bow lips were as soft as he had imagined. 

When Sherlock pulled back, his eyes were hooded over. “I love you too, John.”

It spurred John on. Very slowly, he began to thrust into Sherlock, rolling his hips against his so that Sherlock would feel every inch of him. Sherlock felt an onslaught of pleasure against his over sensitive prostate and his cock slowly filled with blood once again. John grew closer and closer to his own orgasm as he gazed into Sherlock’s eyes as the man below him still cupped his face as if he were the most precious thing in the world. Every now and again, he’d kiss John as if to taste his lips or swallow his moans, but he didn’t dare let go. 

“I’m sorry,” Sherlock gasped against John’s lips.

“It’s okay,” John moaned breathily. “You’re okay.”

“I’m close,” Sherlock whimpered.

John nodded. “Come on. Let it go. Let me see you, love.”

With a full body shudder, Sherlock came between them once more–not as powerful as the first, but deeper, as Sherlock felt wave after wave through his cock. John came right after, his thrusts never ceasing as he filled Sherlock to the brim, his body trembling.

When John could no longer hold himself up, buried his face into Sherlock’s neck. Sherlock ran his fingers through John’s short greying blonde hair with a fondness he didn’t believe was possible. His brain was finally quiet.

“Would you like to move some of your things in here?” Sherlock inquired.

John lifted his head. “You want  _ your  _ room to become  _ our  _ room?”

“To put it simply.” Sherlock said with a hint of nervousness that John found adorable.

John kissed his lips. “That would be lovely.”

Sherlock grinned and John let himself rest in the crook of Sherlock’s neck.

That is, until there was a familiar, swift two knocks on the front door.

“ _ Boys!  _ Lestrade is here with a case!”

John’s head bolted up and they looked at each other in shock. 

Then, their laughter began to fill the room.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> If you liked it, leave a comment telling me what you liked or what particular part was your favourite. If you see any errors, let me know, and I'll fix them asap
> 
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> 
> Have a great day!!


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